


My Home is Your Body

by MoanDiary



Series: Moan Your Way Through Fuckruary [17]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Episode Tag: S05E06 BluBallz, F/M, First Time, Fuckruary 2021, Jed is a cornboy, Nipple Play, POV Chloe, Sexual Content, Shower Sex, Sleepy Sex, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29124465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary
Summary: Their first night. Four times.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Moan Your Way Through Fuckruary [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626784
Comments: 30
Kudos: 276





	My Home is Your Body

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Fuckruary!

The first time is a blur of sensation and emotion and desperate wanting. Lucifer’s voracious mouth between Chloe’s legs drives her into a blinding orgasm that does nothing but leave her hungry for more. Then they struggle out of their remaining clothes between kisses, and she pushes him onto his back, adrenaline-unsteady and fumbling a little until together they guide his length inside her. She rides him hard and fast, Lucifer helping her with two strong hands on her hips and his own rolling in counterpoint. Otherwise he’s quiet and a little awestruck as he watches her, eyes darting from her face to her breasts to the sight of himself disappearing into her again and again. 

When she starts to get close again, bracing herself on her forearms over him and rocking in short, desperate movements, he works his thumb against her clit _just so_ , and she’s lost. But not so lost that she doesn’t hear his choked “Chloe, _Chloe,”_ as he follows her into bliss.

They lie tangled together in the aftermath, sweaty and sated, and trade soft touches and softer words. She tells him about the two impossibly long months without him: the cases he missed, the mischief Trixie got up to, about going to Lux with Maze to feel closer to him. He tells her of the tedious millennia in Hell: of demonic intrigues, of particularly interesting loops, of both longing for and dreading seeing her among the illusions tormenting a soul, of missing her so much his teeth hurt.

Chloe’s heart aches at the thought of him so alone for so long, and presses her love into his skin, leaving in a trail of kisses across his face and down his freckled neck while he watches her with a kind of stupefied wonder. She sweeps her hand over his shoulder blades, where the material evidence of who and what he truly is lies hidden. She pauses to feel his heartbeat, steady but quickening now as he reads her intent. She traces the lines of his smooth muscle down, down, down, to where he’s already stiffening again for her. She leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses along his length. And now that she’s finally up-close and personal, she can agree with Linda’s assessment—it is, in fact, perfect. 

“Just a moment, love,” he says, breathless, and sits up. He snags one of the plush pillows and drops it on the floor beside the bed while he scoots to sit on the edge of the mattress. “I would very much like to have a good view of this.”

Chloe laughs at his cat-who-got-the-cream grin, the last traces of her sorrow fading under the light of his enthusiasm, and kneels obligingly on the pillow between his spread legs. She strokes his long thighs and eyes the impressive manhood in front of her, contemplating her plan of attack. 

She cups his balls in one hand, rolling them slowly while she licks up the underside of the shaft, enjoying the way it twitches and bobs at the contact. A bead of moisture wells at the tip and she swipes it away with a brush of her thumb, wrapping her hand around him and pumping him experimentally a few times, delighting in his restless shifting and little pleased vocalizations. His hands and eyes rove over her hair and face and shoulders and breasts greedily, taking all of her in. But when she finally wraps her lips around the head of his cock, they home in on her face.

She bobs on him, jaw stretched wide to accommodate his girth, tongue swiping up his length occasionally, fist pumping what she can’t fit in her mouth. She lets his gentle hand on the back of her head guide her into a rhythm he likes, delighting in his appreciative noises and ragged breathing. If she glances down, she can see his toes curling against the stone floor. It’s intoxicating, knowing you can make the Devil moan.

Chloe takes him deep into her mouth, and then deeper, holding him in her throat until her gag reflex rebels and she pulls off of him. She sits back on her heels to catch her breath and looks up at him coyly while she continues to stroke him. He brushes her bangs away from her face and gazes back at her, panting through a wide grin. 

“You wily temptress,” he murmurs fondly, cupping her jaw and swiping a thumb across her swollen lips before pressing it inside. She sucks on it suggestively, waggling her eyebrows. His cock twitches in her hand and she returns to her work with renewed focus, lapping at the head while stroking the shaft rapidly, twisting her hand just so on the upstrokes. Lucifer's fingers tighten in her hair—the tension just on the good side of painful—his eyes squeeze shut, and his mouth falls open. Before her, she can see the muscles of his abdomen tense.

“Detective,” he gasps in warning.

“Do you want to come on my boobs?” she asks. His eyes crack open to regard her and he nods quickly and vehemently. Chloe laughs.

She pumps him while he spills onto her chest in uneven spurts, the hand in her hair clenching and the other fisting in the soft fur of the throw blanket at the end of his bed as he watches her with hooded eyes. If she knows him at all, she’s almost certainly fulfilling one of his long-standing _Hot Tub High School_ -related fantasies. That he can be so fearsome and powerful and yet so utterly silly and immature at the same time only endears him to her more.

Her hand slows and then stops as he gradually relaxes, and she’s just stood to go to the bathroom to clean up when he loops and arm around her waist and drags her back down onto the bed with a growl.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going?” he asks, dark eyes glinting.

“I’m all sticky,” she laughs, holding up her messy hand in front of her. He catches it and licks from her palm all the way to the tip of each finger, his tongue doing frankly sinful things along the way. He cleans her hand and then pins both of her wrists to the bed, straddling her. He goes to work on her chest, laving from her collarbone down to each hardening areola, circling the peaks teasingly with the tip of his tongue and then moving away again and again, until she’s writhing on the bed and arching up toward his mouth, eager for more stimulation.

“Please,” she whines, struggling halfheartedly against his immovable grip.

“You’re not a good girl at all, are you, Detective?” Lucifer marvels, delighted. “In fact”—he leans down until his breath ghosts over one nipple—“you are very”—he closes the distance and gives it one long, wet suck—“very”—he moves to the other and repeats the action—“bad.”

Chloe groans as he begins to suckle her nipples in earnest, pinching and teasing and tugging on whichever his mouth isn’t currently occupied with. Her hands twist in the bedding, holding on for dear life. She’s never considered her breasts to be particularly sensitive, but none of her partners have ever been as good as this. It feels like there’s wire connecting her nipples directly to her clit, every suck sending a shock of pleasure downwards. She finds her hips rocking upwards of their own volition, seeking something—anything—and Lucifer’s thigh is right where she needs it to be, planted on the mattress between her legs, just close enough that she can grind against it for relief. 

“Are you going to come for me like this, my naughty, naughty Detective?” he murmurs in her ear, both thumbs tracing feather-light circles on her nipples while his large hands span her ribs.

 _“Yes,”_ she gasps, rutting desperately against his leg. _“Please,_ yes.”

He makes her wait for a few more long seconds, running his tongue along his teeth appreciatively, and then finally takes her left nipple in his mouth and sucks hard, letting his teeth graze it just so, and she arches off the bed, her legs clamping shut around his thigh as pleasure jolts through her body and she trembles in orgasm.

When she catches her breath and opens her eyes again, Lucifer’s now very slick thigh is still obligingly pressed between her legs, but he lies with his head propped up on one elbow beside her, watching her with eyes glittering in the dim light of his bedroom. Pressed against her hip, his renewed erection is impossible to ignore.

“How are we doing?” he asks with a knowing smirk. “Need a glass of water?” He shifts his thigh against her and she whimpers a little, still sensitive. “Seems like you lost a lot of fluid.”

“I seem to recall you losing a lot of fluid, too,” she counters.

“Oh, absolutely. But you’ll find that my tank is quite capacious.”

“Gross.”

“You love it.”

She brings a hand up to caress his stubbled cheek fondly. “I do.”

His eyelashes flutter and he abruptly leans in to give her a kiss so searing that it makes her toes curl. She’s breathless when he finally pulls back and looks at her earnestly.

“But tell me seriously, are you ready to continue? Because I’d quite like to shag you silly right now.”

Chloe considers her aching nipples and wet thighs and finds, to her surprise, that she still wants him just as badly as ever. “By all means.”

Without any warning he’s on his feet again, and he sweeps her up in a bridal carry. She shrieks in surprise at being lifted so abruptly and clasps her arms around his neck, which just makes him chuckle as he breezes out of the bedroom and into his opulent bathroom. He places her back onto her feet when they reach the shower so he can reach in and fiddle with the many knobs. The massive waterfall head turns on— _instantly_ hot, she knows from experience, because damn him and his money. But she can’t bring herself to be resentful about it as he steps under the spray and holds out a hand in invitation. In this moment, it’s not difficult to believe he’s the Devil, temptation incarnate, beckoning her into sin. Water slicks back his hair and sluices down the long, immaculate planes of his body. It drips from the tip of his perfect, unflagging erection. The desire in his eyes is just as naked as he is. The subtle lighting gives everything a dreamlike feeling, like anything could happen, and would.

Chloe takes the Devil’s hand and steps inside.

They wash each other slowly and methodically, getting to know each other’s bodies. Lucifer draws his hands down her arms, her legs. He traces her neck down to her abdomen and beyond, his fingers sliding through her folds in a delicate caress. He traces the scar of the bullet wound in her shoulder reverently. 

She finds all the places he should have scars, but doesn’t. Two holes in his belly, a stab wound in his shoulder, a cut down his sternum. And of course a graze along his thigh that changed both of their lives. There’s no evidence of them on his flawless immortal flesh, but she knows by the way he reacts to her touch that he still feels them. 

Once they’re clean, he tilts her face up and kisses her again, his tongue plunging into her mouth, until she’s dizzy and clasping the back of his head for dear life. He grips her thighs and lifts her up as if she weighs nothing, pinning her against the smooth marble wall of the shower, fitting his hips against her slick opening and easing inside. She whines at the stretch and wraps her legs around his hips, trying to get what leverage she can against the slick curve of his backside, but she really needn’t bother. He has no trouble holding her up as he begins to drive into her. She rakes her fingernails down his back, reveling in the fact that she can make him hiss.

He buries his face in her neck, his hips working steadily, driving them both relentlessly towards the edge, nipping and sucking at her skin, murmuring praise that grows increasingly inarticulate. “Wanted this—so long—Detective—“ he pants into her ear. “So good.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants as he drives against her _just so_ , again and again. Chloe’s hands scrabble for purchase against the muscles of his back, his neck, the short hair at the base of his skull. Her legs tremble and slip and he takes the rest of her weight on his arms as she hurtles into yet another orgasm, gripping his torso as he continues to fuck her spasming heat. “Don’t stop,” she gasps.

He doesn’t stop, his thrusts drawing out her pleasure to unbelievable lengths, until finally he drives into her with a few last unsteady thrusts and a choked shout, and she feels the wet heat of him spilling inside her. She spares a single worried thought to the question of whether or not he could get her pregnant, even with her on the pill, but makes an executive decision that it’s something for Tomorrow Chloe to worry about.

They catch their breath together for a long time, exchanging sloppy, tired kisses, until eventually Lucifer lowers her onto her feet again, steadying her when she wobbles a bit. He cleans both of them again and then guides Chloe out of the shower, bundling her into a massive fluffy towel and drying her off. The stress and exertion of the past two days is finally catching up to her—solving the nun case, deciding to be with Lucifer despite her miraculous nature, reuniting with Jed, almost getting blown up, planning a sting, finding a believable rave outfit, and solving _another_ murder, all without sleep. Once upon a time, a little catnap would be all she needed, but she’s almost forty and she can’t do it anymore.

While Lucifer dries himself, Chloe wanders into his closet and snags one of his shirts, buttoning it part-way as she returns to the bathroom, enjoying how Lucifer eyes her up and down with a silly little grin on his face. They wander back into Lucifer’s bedroom, fingers tangled together, and after a little negotiation over who would take which side (allegedly Lucifer “has slept on the right side of the bed for eons,” and therefore has “dibs”), crawl under the sheets. They turn on their sides towards each other, two parentheses in a pair.

“So why didn’t you answer any of my calls today?” Chloe asks through a yawn, exhausted but not ready for the night to be over.

Lucifer may not blush, but he comes close. “Ah, yes. That. Well, Jed let it slip that you were the one who ended it with him, so I wanted to learn from his mistakes. So as not to, uh, bollocks it up with you.”

“And…?” she prompts.

“And he said you liked mysteries, which of course you do, and that you dumped him when he was no longer mysterious. So I was trying to be…” He gestures vaguely. “Mysterious.”

Chloe barks a laugh. “First of all, you ignoring my calls doesn’t make you mysterious to me, it makes you a pain in my ass. And secondly,” she sighs. “Jed was a nice guy, and we had a lot of fun while it lasted, but he was just very…” She hesitates, trying to find the right word. “...Nebraskan.”

Lucifer raises his eyebrows and nods in understanding. “Say no more.”

The conversation flows easily. He tells her about Charlie liking his devil face and spending the evening with Dan and Amenadiel, and she tells him about the sting at the rave and Ella’s tragic taste in men, and they make each other laugh the same as they always have until eventually her eyes slide shut in the middle of a sentence and she slips into oblivion.

* * *

Chloe wakes to the predawn light, disoriented. Another early morning getting ready for work and getting Trixie off to school, she thinks groggily. Another morning on Earth while Lucifer is in Hell. But then her legs slide against unfamiliar slick sheets, and she feels the shift of another body on the mattress somewhere to her right, and it all comes rushing back. Lucifer’s here, with her. She’s a gift from God. He’s allowed to stay with her. They can do all the things they did with each other last night, and so much more.

She rolls over to look at him. His face is mashed into the pillow and one arm is flung haphazardly across the bed in her direction. She scoots closer and brushes a stray lock of hair away from his face. He stirs at her touch, grunting and blinking a few times. When he focuses on her face, his mouth stretches in a dopey grin.

“‘Tective,” he mumbles, looping an arm around her and dragging her closer. She leans in and kisses him softly. He deepens the kiss almost immediately, and they make out for several minutes, tongues twining sensuously. Eventually he tilts his hips forward so she can feel his erection against her belly. She palms it and snakes one leg up over his waist, spreading herself open and guiding him to her entrance. He doesn’t need to be asked twice, sliding into her like they’ve done it a thousand times before. 

She’s still sore from last night, so they move gently, rocking slowly together and exchanging sleepy kisses. His fingers are feather-light against her clit, giving her pleasure just enough sharpness to take her up and over the edge again. She trembles and sighs against him, watching his face twist in rapture as he comes too, eyebrows contracting and then smoothing, perfect lips parting around a satisfied moan.

“I love you,” she breathes once again, feeling the weight of the words, meaning them so much. He hums and smiles, but doesn’t reciprocate. His eyes are closed again already, so she doesn’t think he can see the disappointment on her face.

It’s all right, she thinks. They have all the time in the world.


End file.
